


The Box Of Tricks

by inamac



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fellatio, Multi, Prostitution, Vagina Dentata, dub-con, slight blood-play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-23
Updated: 2010-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-13 08:28:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/135220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inamac/pseuds/inamac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sirius ran away from home, Alphard Black offered him help  – but not for nothing...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Box Of Tricks

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Anything you recognise belongs to JKR. Everything else – doesn't.
> 
>  **Author's note:** I apologise unreservedly for casting any slurs on Mr Malfoy Snr's sexual prowess – this is, of course, a work of fiction. Written for the 2010 'Samhain Smut' fest on LiveJournal to the prompt 'Tricks'.

#  The Box Of Tricks

Part One – Selling

Despite the name, _The Box of Tricks_ , etched in invisible runes on the glass of the discrete side-door, the rooms above Zonko's London emporium were not at all associated with the business that occupied the shop below. In fact Signore Zonko would have been horrified by the sort of clientele who made their way, cloaked and masked, up the narrow back stars to the smoke-filled Club above.

But, as the proprietor of the establishment was often heard to say, _what the eye doesn't see, the heart won't grieve over_.

And there was very little that Mr Alphard Black's eyes did not see. Much less that he would grieve over.

Though one of the things that caused him grief was the young man leaning against the filing cabinet in the corner of his office at that moment. "So," he said, drawing on his cigar and blowing the resulting smoke deliberately into the boy's face, "What makes you think I'm going to help you?"

The boy grinned. "'Cos I'm Family?" he said, making the capital letter obvious.

"Not according to your Mother. I hear she's removed your name from the Family Tapestry. With extreme prejudice."

The boy shrugged. "That was quick. I didn't think she'd get the note until tomorrow. Not that it matters. I'm old enough now to make my own decisions."

"Really? So what are you doing here?"

"Thought I'd touch you for some ready cash. Just before I can get into my vault at Gringotts and pay you back."

Alphard leaned back in his chair and stubbed the cigar out on the bum of the naked bronze figurine which held aloft his desk lamp. "I'm not running a charity here, son. If you want dosh you'll have to work for it."

"So. Give me a job."

Alphard looked at the boy thoughtfully. He was by no means the first kid to run away from home and fetch up here, but he was the first Black family member – or at least the first one to come looking for a job rather than as a client. Maybe it would do the boy good to learn something about the world outside of the sheltered Black household.

And tonight would be a good test of his determination and resilience. Halloween was always the busiest night of the year, as even those wizards who avoided the streets of Muggle London during the rest of the year took the opportunity of the costumed revellers moving from pub to club in the city to cover their own excursions into the wizarding communities more secluded places.

"Very well," he said. "Cymon is off sick this evening so I need someone to man the cloakroom. I suppose you can be trusted to check cloaks?"

The boy shrugged. "How hard can it be. Sure."

Alphard looked at him sharply. "If you're working for me, Sirius, it's going to be very hard. I don't tolerate freeloaders. Now, get that motorbike moved out of the alley. Tonight's going to be busy. Don't make me regret hiring you."

+++

By nine o'clock Sirius was wondering whether he had made a mistake.

Alphard had been right. Although it was relatively early there were already enough clients to keep himself, and the boy Michael who was behind the bar, busy. A group of hags had arrived at around eight and were now playing the roulette table, long talons pushing the chips across the baize with calculated glee and apparent disinterest in the result. Half an hour later Sirius had taken the cloaks of a couple of vampires who had passed on to the inner rooms with expressions of anticipation on their pale faces. As the hooks in the small cloakroom gradually filled, and the seats in the small bar were occupied Sirius eyed the saucer on the edge of the counter in anticipation. Though the early clients were not generous, it already held a handful of Sickles and one or two Galleons. Michael had told him that later, around midnight, when the London pubs were closing and those wizards who had been mixing with the Muggle revellers sought out entertainment among their own kind, the place would really fill up with the big spenders.

He had checked in a trio of giggling witches and was turning back from hanging their cloaks on the hooks when the hairs on the back of his neck rose in response to a scent that was both familiar and strange. Werewolf. But not Remus.

Slightly shaken Sirius handed over the tickets to the witches and waved them through to the bar area before daring to turn to greet the latest arrivals. Two men, and a woman. All three were cloaked and, in Muggle costume fashion, masked. Sirius met the yellow eyes of the first client and failed to suppress a shiver. The man saw it and smiled, showing sharp, pointed teeth.

But before either of them could speak the woman in the group had given a cry of recognition of her own. "Why, if it isn't little Cousin Sirius! Does your mother know you're out, baby?"

"I'm of age," he scowled. "What I do is none of Mother's business. Or yours, Cousin Bella."

The man on whose arm she hung pushed back his hood, revealing a mane of white-blond hair, and a pair of calculating grey eyes behind a silver half-mask. His lips curled in a mirthless smile. "Sirius Black, eh? I've heard a lot about you."

"Nothing good, I hope?"

The man laughed. "Oh you can be confident on that point. My source was most informative. I really think that a boy with your talents is wasted as a mere..." he sniffed, "cloakroom attendant. I wonder..."

Whatever he wondered about he was interrupted as the door to Alphard's office swung open and the proprietor, who made a point of greeting his most influential clients personally, emerged from the inner room.

"Mr Malfoy, Miss Black. I do hope everything is in order. The boy is new. If he's a problem..." The sentence ended with the implication that summary punishment or dismissal would follow any criticism of Sirius' behaviour.

"No problem at all, Alphard. In fact he is being most helpful." Lucius Malfoy gently removed Bellatrix' hand from his arm and turned to the werewolf. "Fenrir, would you escort Bella inside? I would like to discuss the evening's entertainment with Alphard."

Bellatrix scowled in annoyance, but allowed herself to be led away. Malfoy threw his cloak across the desk to Sirius, and swept through the door to Alphard's office as if he owned it. Alphard followed and closed the oak behind him.

Part Two – Playing

"I did say that the boy is new, Lucius." The owner of the club flipped open the carved walnut humidor on the desk and offered Malfoy a cigar. The two men sized each other up as they busied themselves with the ritual of the smoking room.

"I heard. I understood it as an offer. Or are you getting soft on family these days, Black?"

"What do you think?" Alphard flicked his fingers, conjuring wandless fire at the tips and offering the flame to his cigar.

"I think," Lucius leaned forward to light his own from the proffered fire, "that everything in this place has its price. And I have some interest in ensuring that the Blacks understand their... social obligations."

The two men were speaking quietly, but there was an air of menace on the room. Both commanded a considerable amount of power in their separate spheres, and neither wished to make an enemy of the other – at least, not at this moment in the delicate balance between the spheres of wizarding politics and commercial enterprise.

Alphard leaned back and exhaled a soft spiral of smoke that his dark eyes followed to the ceiling. "There are rumours that you're supporting this 'Lord Voldemort' character," he said. "I wouldn't want him to misunderstand who runs the recreational services in this town."

"Voldemort has no interest in 'recreation'," said Lucius. "I, on the other hand, am more than willing to ensure that you continue to enjoy the privileges of providing such services to those who need them."

"And can pay for them."

"Indeed." Lucius put his cigar down on the edge of the heavy glass ashtray on Alphard's desk, and reached into his pocket for his notecase. "I'm sure we can agree a reasonable price. "

+++

The gaming room was surprisingly well lit by hanging modern crystal chandeliers; spears of faceted glass that hung like glistening daggers over the card tables, the gaming machines and the roulette table. The shimmer of anti-prediction spells and security charms permeated the room, so obvious that a squib or muggle might have been aware of them. The place hardly needed the brooding presence of Uncle Alphard's security staff.

Bellatrix moved across the room with confidence. Clearly she was a frequent visitor and was obviously well known. A few of the other patrons greeted her by name, which she acknowledged by nods as she passed, carrying Sirius and Fenrir in her wake until they beached up at the high stakes roulette wheel.

"Well, cousin, let's see whether you're going to be my lucky star tonight," she said, taking an offered chair and setting her bag on the edge of the table. "What's your favourite colour? Red or black?"

Sirius opened his mouth but was given no opportunity to speak.

"Silly me," she continued, "Gryffindor red of course. You're having nothing to do with Black any more, are you, dahling?" she took a handful of chips from the bag and held them out to him. The denominations ranged from ten to two hundred galleons. Sirius looked on in astonishment. He had never seen so much money handled so casually before. His parsimonious mother would have been scandalised.

"Go on," she urged him. "Pick a number."

He took two ten galleon chips and set them down covering the red 9. "My lucky number," he said. "The day I left home."

The croupier looked up at Bella sharply. "It's members only, Miss Black. You know the rules."

Bella frowned, and reached for her bag, half-rising in her chair before a hand on her shoulder pushed her back into place and an aristocratic drawl put the croupier in his.

"Members and employees, David. Sirius here has Mr Black's full permission to... entertain... us."

The croupier's eyes met Sirius's with an expression that he found inscrutable – pity or surprise or envy? Then he nodded. "Of course, Mr Malfoy."

Lucius nodded, taking a hastily vacated seat beside Bella. "Play," he ordered, and the boy returned gratefully to his job. The silver ball careened around the wheel – and stopped.

"Numero Neuf," he announced, dispassionately, "Rouge, impair et manque."

"Well well," said Bellatrix, as Sirius' winnings were pushed across the table to him, "It seems that you were right about your lucky number."

"Oh," Lucius smiled, "I think our young protégé is going to be very lucky tonight. I think we should all take advantage of it. I have spoken to Alphard and he will let us have a private room."

Fenrir licked his lips and spoke for the first time since they had entered the gaming room. "You do have the most delicious ideas, Malfoy. We have so little opportunity to really enjoy ourselves these days."

"Think of it as a Hallowe'en treat," said Lucius.

"Oh yes," Bellatrix smiled. "Somewhere to play away from the riff-raff. Do we have a time limit? I'd like to try and win a little more here first."

Lucius lifted her hand and kissed the inside of her gloved wrist. It was a courtly, old-fashioned gesture and Sirius, watching, had the impression that it meant more than a simple acknowledgement of her request.

"We have as long as we want," he said. "And the services of this young man for the whole evening. Mr Black can be very generous with his employees."

Bella's eyes sparkled.

Part 3 – Making

It was well past midnight when Bellatrix and Lucius finally tired of playing the public tables and Fenrir had beaten a group of hard-eyed wizards playing the bagatelle machines by demonstrating a speed and skill that had at least one of them complaining that the magic-dampening charms used by the House must be failing. The public rooms were even more crowded as wizard revellers left the pubs and restaurants in muggle London and sought all night entertainment in their own places.

Alphard himself was playing host to a small group of hard-eyed wizards at one corner table, and he nodded to Lucius as he led their small party to the rear of the club where a discreet doorway gave access to the upper floor of the building. The young wizard standing guard with his wand sheathed ostentatiously at his hip stood aside at a gesture from the Club owner and allowed the party to pass through into a small lobby and up a deeply carpeted staircase. At the top they entered a long corridor lined with a succession of doors, each with a small brass plaque bearing the name of a game.

"Bridge, I thought," said Lucius, pushing open the appropriately labelled door. "As there are four of us."

Sirius had expected to find a small room, perhaps with a bar and card-table set with chairs. In fact those were the first objects that met his eyes as he entered on Bellatrix' elegant heels, but they were dwarfed by the size of the room, with a four-poster bed easily large enough to accommodate four people and two massive carved chests, closed with iron clasps, which were much too large to contain only playing cards.

Bellatrix crossed immediately to the bed and bounced on it. "Lucius! You darling. Do we have all night?"

"If we want," he replied, divesting himself of his cravat and overtunic with the air of one preparing to spend a long, relaxing evening with friends.

Fenrir crossed to one of the chests and pulled up the lid, glancing at the contents before dropping it again with a heavy thud. "A nice selection of toys," he said. "Do we have leave to use them?"

"Alphard put all his services entirely at my disposal," said Lucius, sitting at the card table and gesturing for the others to join him. "And since we do have all night there's no hurry to sample everything. "

Fenrir nodded and moved to the bar. He filled three tumblers with a dark golden liquor and a crystal goblet with red elf-wine, returning to the table to sit next to Lucius and set the glasses down in each place. Bellatrix left the bed to take her own position opposite Lucius, lifting the goblet in a brief toast before sipping at the wine. She licked her lips. "Alphard _is_ being generous this Hallowe'en," she said.

"We'll see," said Lucius. He gestured to Sirius to take the vacant chair opposite Fenrir and reached out to the two packs of cards already set out in the centre of the table, splitting open the seals on the boxes with a casual, wandless, cutting spell. Then he waterfalled the first pack with a swift movement of his hands that owed nothing to magic and everything to practice. "I think the representative of the House should start as dealer," he said, passing the shuffled cards to Sirius. "And if my dear partner will call the first trumps?"

Bellatrix smiled, showing white teeth against her blood-red lips. "Swords," she said.

Fenrir nodded. "Oh Bella _does_ like her sharp blades," he said, watching as Sirius dealt the cards neatly in front of him before gathering the hand and fanning it, his pointed nails scraping against the pasteboard, "But I believe my _partner_ can handle them too. Five pentacles. No trumps."

Perhaps, Sirius thought, as the play continued smoothly round the table, bets doubled and redoubled, tricks played and won, his long association with Remus had given him some advantage in interpreting the subtle signals of a werewolf. They won the first two deals, lost a third, and took the opening tricks of the last with an unexpected slam. It was a short respite. Lucius and Bella won the next two tricks, and the game with such finesse that Sirius half-suspected they might have some way to beat the anti-Legilimency charms on the room.

Fenrir rose from his seat to replenish their glasses. As he did so Lucius took the second pack of cards from his left, but did not carry out the next deal. Instead he cut them, turning up the three of wands before passing the pack to his partner. She cut and turned up the two of cups. Her pout, as she looked at Sirius, and then back to Lucius, held malice. Lucius smiled. "I'll have the boy, I think. As you are so much more experienced in dealing with our werewolf, Bella," he said calmly.

"What?" Sirius looked from his cousin to the blond man in confusion. "Are we finished?"

"Oh dear boy, we've barely begun. You and your partner lost that game. What did you think we were playing for? Matchsticks? It's time for you to pay your gambling debt. And I think, in deference to Miss Black's sensibilities we'll begin with a little oral stimulation. Come here." He swung sideways in his chair, beckoning Sirius with one serpent-beringed forefinger.

Bellatrix had already risen from her seat and made her way to the bed, followed by Greyback, carrying her glass of wine and his own blood-brandy. Sirius watched in dawning apprehension as she threw herself back onto the piled pillows, pulled her long skirts up to her waist and parted her legs, revealing her bare crotch. He had no chance to see more, as long fingers took his chin and pulled his head round to where Malfoy lounged in his chair, his own robes opened to reveal a like nakedness.

"I said, come here." The strong grip pulled him from his seat and to his knees, so close to Lucius's crotch that he could smell the man's sex. From the bed he heard the scrape of flesh on fabric, the creak of wood as Fenrir crawled up between Bellatrix' legs.

"I don't..." Sirius began, his vision filled with the flaccid pink length of the other man's penis, the darker flushed testicles and the tangle of pale, almost invisible blond hair.

"Yes you do." Lucius drawled, shifting his hold from Sirius's jaw to his hair, "If you come to work in a brothel you do whatever your client wants. And I want you to suck me. Now."

Involuntarily Sirius licked his lips. The motion allowed Lucius to pull his head forward and guide his mouth to his target. There was a moan from the bed; Bellatrix responding to Fenrir's tongue. Sirius extended his own tongue and touched no more than the tip to Lucius's foreskin. For a moment he thought that he was going to be sick. Then he closed his eyes, and that made it easier.

"No teeth," Lucius admonished, as he began to respond to the boy's ministrations, "Not yet, at least."

From the bed there was a short, almost hysterical laugh. Bellatrix responding either to Fenris's long tongue in her vagina, or to Lucius's words. At least, Sirius thought, as his mouth filled with flesh, she's enjoying it.

It was not the first time Sirius had another man's cock in his mouth, but it was the first time his partner has not been at least semi-aroused. Lucius's lack of response was both a challenge and an insult. He wondered whether the bastard had used a charm or a potion, or if he was just naturally frigid. The Ice Prince of Slytherin, as he'd heard Snivellus call him, and he'd thought it was a reference to the man's looks. He tilted his head back and looked up, to see Lucius turn his head to watch the couple on the bed. Damn you, he thought. You _will_ pay attention to me! He used his tongue to press the head of the man's cock against the roof of his mouth, giving himself the purchase to lick back the foreskin and expose the sensitive slit to the ridges of his palate. That caught Lucius' attention. His saliva was augmented by a trickle of pre-come and, for the first time, the pulse of the hardening blood flow along the vein sliding on his tongue. Got you, you bastard! He sucked, and the fingers in his hair tightened, as did the balls pressed against his chin.

After that, it did not take long before the grip on his hair loosened. Whether it was deliberately or as an involuntary response to the stimulation Sirius didn't care. He had brought Lucius to the edge of orgasm, and the loosened grasp allowed him to draw back and watch as the other man spent himself over the chair and carpet.

There was a slow handclap from the bed. Bellatrix was sitting up, Fenrir's unruly head still nestled between her legs. "He must be really rather good, Lucie. You usually make them take much longer."

"I don't believe in rushing my pleasures, Bella." He lifted his wand from the side table and used a wordless charm to clean himself and the furniture. "Are you ready for him now?"

"Oh yes," she smiled, pushed the werewolf away and opened her long legs wider.

Fenrir gave a growl at the touch, but backed off and, before Sirius could move or say anything, he found himself grasped by the shoulders and practically flung onto the bed and over the woman. He felt the warmth of blood running down his naked back from the werewolf's claws.

Bellatrix, far from protesting his unexpected weight, merely wriggled a little under him to accommodate it, and then her slender hand took his penis to guide the head between her folds. She was wet, and he tried to forget that the werewolf's tongue, now lapping the blood from his shoulders, had brought her to this state of readiness for him.

"There," she said. "Isn't that nice?"

He could not deny it, even as his arousal flared and he followed her guidance and pressed into her.  
For a moment he though that she had conjured a spiked cock-ring around his aching member. But then Bellatrix laughed, and the motion rippled through her, tightening all her muscles, drawing her thighs up to grip his hips, and squeezing her inner lips around him. It was as if someone had tightened a string of hard pearls around the head of his cock. The unexpected stimulation made him thrust into her – before he realised with icy shock that the werewolf had not been licking out her cunt – he had been kissing her. At some time before coming to the club she had used the _Vagina Dentata_ charm.

He would have withdrawn, but at that moment the werewolf's nails, scraping down his spine, creating a trail of blood that the creature's tongue followed lasciviously, reached his entrance and plunged into him, and he was caught between sensations, constriction and the stretch and burn of opening his body to an invasion, the scent of blood and the scent of sex, and somewhere, a long way away, the clink of coins as Lucius Malfoy counted out the price of the night's diversions onto the card table.

+++

They had left just before dawn, gathering their clothing and using casual, practiced charms to clean themselves and all evidence of their activities from the room. Sirius lay slumped on the bed, one hand over his eyes, the other resting protectively over his crotch. The weight of his own cock was reassuring. The other aches and bruises would fade with time. And the payoff... he glanced at the piled Galleons on the table. That was a bonus. His real reward would come when he finally reported back to the Order of the Phoenix. He had proof now. Bellatrix Black and Lucius Malfoy were marked Death Eaters.

And that knowledge was more than worth the price.

~The End~


End file.
